


Identity (the These Aren't The Sirens You're Looking For remix)

by kesomon



Category: Tron: Uprising
Genre: BAMF!Ram, Gen, Siren!Ram, episode AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:29:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesomon/pseuds/kesomon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>infiniteviking suggests: what if Lux was Ram?</p><p>AU!scene remix from Tron: Uprising's "Identity"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Identity (the These Aren't The Sirens You're Looking For remix)

**Author's Note:**

> Blame infiniteviking. [And her art.](http://images.plurk.com/42b70313e775dccba9aad47f46b2319a.jpg)

The figure in Siren-white sailed down from the sky like an avenging angel, boots crumpling one of their attackers to the ground even as the mystery program turned, slamming the business end of a lightstaff against the helmet of another goon. Voxels flew, scattering across the ground, but the program was still moving, not giving second-glance to the enemy they’d just put down in one blow.

Another twist and turn, jam the staff against the ground and swing boots up to plant both boots into the chest of one of Tron's attackers. ( _an oddly familiar move - but why was it familiar?_ )

Freed of unfair odds, Tron flipped one of his assailants over his back and ducked a disk, snatching it out of the air on its return trip and turning to slash across the chest of a program, spilling voxels in a macabre arc of damage-red.

Smoke suddenly clouded the hall, obscuring the corridor with micropixels of raw material, billowing up from some unknown distributor. It choked Beck's air processors, made him cough. Fingers suddenly wrapped around his wrist; he struggled a moment, but the mysterious program in white suddenly loomed from the smokescreen, blue eyes and curls beneath a hood and half-mask obscuring their lower face, filtering the smoke.

"Time to go!" the program said, ( _was the voice male? Female? Beck couldn't tell; the world swam around him, feeling wrong-_ wrong _- **wrong**_ ) tugging Beck forward.

Out of the smoke, stumbling forward; a glance back, a program in black following, circuit array minimal at best. Through the back alleys, up a ladder to the roof, and the world began to reassert itself. By the time Beck had reached the top, his head felt clearer, his mind his own again.

"I think I just had my first glitch," he admitted quietly, as he took Tron's offered hand and hoisted himself up.

"We should keep moving," Tron said briskly, releasing him and moving across the roof. Beck sighed and rolled his eyes towards the auroras. "Well, I'm glad you care."

Tron, however, was now focused on the mystery program. The white-clad figure was perched on the edge of the roof, peering over the edge, presumably on lookout for signs of pursuit. The black-clad system monitor stopped a short distance away and his voice, when he spoke, was a wary rumble. "Why'd you help us?"

"Because you needed the help." The white-clad figure paused, then reached up to flip the hood back, revealing a messy tangle of brown-blonde curls. The program turned, deactivating the filter mask in the process, and Beck watched as Tron actually stepped back in shock.

"You don't ping, you don't message me," the program said mischievously, "Tron. I'm crushed."

Tron's helmet retracted, and his expression was one Beck had never seen his mentor possess.

_"Ram."_

"You're welcome, by the way," Ram said, matter-of-factly, hopping down off the roof ledge and strolling over to poke Tron in the chest. "Yori said that when I found you, I should kick you in the subroutines. But I won't, because I'm nice like that." His gaze roamed over the scar damage that was creeping up Tron's neck with worried concern, then slipped past him entirely to size Beck up. "Who's the glitching beta?"

"Uh, I'm Beck. And I'm not a beta." Beck wished he didn't sound so uncertain about that.

"Uh-huh." Ram smirked, and turned his attention back to Tron. "Lost his disk?"

"Lost his disk," the system monitor confirmed with a nod and a mild look of exasperation.

"Been a lot of that going around; lucky for you, I know the ‘ _who's-who’_ of Purgos." He clapped Tron on the shoulder and smirked at Beck. "C'mon, glitchy; I've got a place you guys can crash at." Then, to Tron, and with far more warmth, "We can talk more there."

The program, still a stranger to Beck for all that he knew Ram's name now, flipped his hood back up and did a neatly executed handstand-flip off the edge of the roof, onto a lower balcony below.

Tron rezzed his helmet back and followed Ram over the edge with slightly less showmanship.

"Who is this guy?" Beck muttered, trying not to feel jealous, and headed for the ladder.


End file.
